


Rain of Red

by rideahorse



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, I'm Sorry, Language, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Survey Corps mission gone wrong, but also kinda not really, haha i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3771628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideahorse/pseuds/rideahorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course it had to be raining.</p><p>-----</p><p>Something had gone wrong on the mission, just like all the others had.  Eren hadn't expected it to go this wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain of Red

**Author's Note:**

> uhm....I'm sorry. *sweats*
> 
> I'm not even going to lie, this is pure angst. Good luck, my friends.

" _Thy fate is the common fate of all,_

 _Into each life some rain must fall._ "

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

Of course it had to be raining.

Something had gone wrong. There was a plan, Eren knew it, just as they all did, knew it like the back of his hand, had rehearsed it for days in his mind prior to the mission. But something had gone wrong. There was something, some confounding variable, some problem none of them had thought of--maybe the terrain, maybe an aberrant, he wasn't sure. They'd gotten separated, all of them in the right flank. Mikasa had scattered toward the left, towards where Armin was, and Sasha and Connie went right. Jean had disappeared with the rest of them, but he hadn't really paid any attention at the time, as everything was a mess.

Or so he thought. He wasn't sure, and that was the problem.

The forest had seemed like a viable option to regroup. He remembered, just as they all did, the instructions left by Levi to his squad, to find high ground and wait to regroup, should anything go wrong. It was more of a backup plan to the backup plan.

He hadn't actually expected that would be needed.

He hadn't expected that it would be first Jean that he rejoined with, none of the others in sight. He hadn't expected that Jean would be half-hanging from one of the higher branches, the cords of his 3DMG tangled up in the leaves. He hadn't expected, as he cut down the slick straps at Jean's insistence, and helped to guide them both to refuge on one of the sturdier branches, that Jean would be covered in blood. He hadn't expected, when asking and watching Jean consequently collapse against the bark, for that blood to be Jean's.

And of course it had to be raining.  The trees did a decent job of keeping most of the rain from reaching them, despite the fact that he knew how heavily it was pouring out of reach of the branches.  But still the water ran down the tree from the higher branches, catching on leaves and wood and then falling down, down, stopping at their own branch before continuing onward like a red waterfall.  Red, red.  It was everywhere. 

Jean cracked a grin from where he was pressed against the bark, coughing and not bothering to cover. The expression stirred Eren for a moment, stopping him from what he was currently doing, which could only be described as aimless fretting. He didn't know what to do. If it were Armin, he'd be able to do some miraculous healing or something. If it were Mikasa, she'd be able to fly them both out of here and to the medics cart. As it was, Eren didn't have enough gas to carry the both of them. He _knew_ the others were coming, though. It had to be any minute. It _had_ to.

"It just had to be you who found me, didn't it?" Jean asked him with that same shit-eating grin he always wore, the one that used to grind on Eren's nerves like no other.

Eren furrowed his brows, pushing aside the red-stained lapel of Jean's military-issued jacket that had grown worn and damaged over the years. The green cloak they'd all worn fell away in shreds from his shoulders, and Eren could barely process what he was seeing.

This is something _he'd_ be able to heal from, was the first thing he could think of. But it wasn't him. For all their similarities, Jean wasn't him.

But still...the others were coming.  They had to be.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied softly, recovering the mess made of Jean's chest with the cloak. He didn't ask what happened.

A hand latched on to Eren's sleeve, causing him to slowly meet the other's eyes. A stream of water maneuvered its way around the strong bridge of Jean's nose, dancing downward to curve around his blood-stained lips, picking up reddish tints as it continued on its path. Eren tried, and boy did he try, to keep his expression blank, to not convey the rising bubble of fear in his chest. His mind was still working, struggling, attempting to figure out some way to make things okay. _The others are coming_ , he repeated to himself.

Jean held his gaze for a second, slowly sliding his hand the rest of the way down Eren's sleeve and clutching his fingers. Eren attempted to ignore how cold they felt, tried to blame it on his own unnatural warmth.

Jean gave a pained smile. "You know, that face means it's not going to work. You're not angry at all, how abnormal is that?" He laughed sardonically, the effort making him cough.

At that Eren was able to scowl. "You think this is funny, asshole? No, I refuse to let you say shit like that. You're going to be fine, okay? The others are coming."

"Don't lie to yourself. You never have, don't start now, because of me."

The look in Jean's eye was all too calm for Eren's liking, and he clenched his jaw in response, remaining silent. He had to think. Think, think, and save a life. If only saving people was as simple as killing them, he thought, and immediately felt nauseous. Jean was _dying_ , he was sitting right there and _letting_ himself die, and Eren felt suddenly that he was going to throw up.

"Come on, Jean, you _idiot_ , you stupid fucking selfish _bastard_ , you are supposed to live the longest out of all of us, don't you _remember_? You and your stupid delusional dreams of living the life in the interior, outliving all of us so-called suicidal bastards, _remember_?" He threw a weak glare in Jean's direction, attempting to add acid to his words to make Jean retaliate, make him focus, make him snap, make him do anything at all that would have him focusing. Focusing, and not slipping.

Eren had seen it on other soldiers as they accepted their fate, that face of calmness, the air of bitter cynicism on some that could only be rivaled by Jean. He felt the bile rising in his throat as Jean refused to bite at his words, only staring at him softly, almost pitying.

"Yeah, well," he began. A long moment passed before he seemingly thought of the words to say. "I guess some people changed my mind a long time ago. We can't--" The fingers gripping Eren's tightened, fingernails digging into skin, as Jean coughed, roughly. He continued for a moment as Eren watched in building fear, unable to look away.

Still, he found it in him to continue his protest. "Jean, no, no, look, the others are going to be here any minute now, and you'll be fine. You'll get patched up all fine, probably get a month or so off because you're such a lucky bastard, and then we can go back to normal. Yeah? I'll even let you beat me in a fight once or twice, okay?"

"Just shut up," snapped Jean, causing Eren to blink once, mouth snapping shut. They held gazes for a moment, before Jean continued. " _It's not happening, Eren._ "

Eren felt rage building up, familiar and fiery. Not happening.

The same words Jean had said ages ago when they first met, when Eren had asked him to help with learning how to use the 3DMG; the same words that he'd used when Eren tried to insist that joining the Survey Corps was the right thing, the brave thing to do; the same words that he'd used when Eren had asked to swap chores with him for the sake of getting more time with Armin; the same words he'd used when Eren had asked if he'd be willing to be friends, just to appease Mikasa's insistence that they stop fighting; the same words he'd used when Eren wanted to know more about his mother, after that one visit from her; the same words he'd come to eventually use when Eren asked him if he ever thought it'd be better to just leave him, to not think twice about how _Eren_ felt.

Eren had never called it love. He didn't like to delude himself, didn't bother to actually sit down and think about it. Whatever it _was_ was comfortable, so he didn't bother to spend the two seconds of time it would take him to realize that--

"I love you."

And it was just a whisper, and Jean didn't hear it, because he was too busy coughing his lungs out, blood staining his hands in a growing rosy bloom that rivaled the crest of the Garrison.

Lowering his gaze to their hands, he slowly intertwined his fingers with Jean's, gripping tightly and saying nothing more. He could feel Jean's eyes on him, could practically feel the holes that he was burning into his profile, but he couldn't look. No part of him could see that face that only those who have given up wear. He hated that, that Jean, _his boy_ , Jean the Strong, would _dare_ to wear that face. He was furious, and he didn't know what to do, and that just made him even more mad.

"Look at me, please."

Eren clenched his jaw so tightly that he could hear the creaking of teeth against teeth in his mind, could feel the ache in his jaw from the pressure. The strain brought tears to his eyes, but he couldn't make himself look. He felt sick.

"Eren..."

There was another cough, this time making Jean flinch, fingers spasming in Eren's.  It took a long moment until his words reached Eren's ears once more.

"It was a good life, despite all this shit. I hope you know that."

 _It was a good life_ , Eren repeated in his mind. He tasted the words on his own tongue, knew that Mikasa had once said those same words, and his mouth grew bitter. There was silence for the longest moment, one that grew and grew and made Eren feel queasy. His thoughts were soaring thousands of miles above the ground, still scrambling, making up ways that could possibly fix things-- _there had to be a way_ \--but the others weren't there. The others were nowhere near them, likely.

Eventually he found words. He realized he'd been squeezing Jean's hand tighter than was likely healthy, and released some of the pressure. But as he released pressure, so did Jean. The fingers slid from his grasp, and the pit of his stomach fell far further than he could picture it ever falling.

His neck cracked in pain as he whirled around to stare at the blank expression of the boy beside him, a face that was once so strong and now only looked empty, vacant. Panic coursed through his mind, making him scream a hundred thousand _no_ 's wordlessly.

The rain felt like acid, burning his skin and tearing apart his muscles as an ice-cold snake of grief wove its way through his gut.  Each droplet that fell, sliding onward along its path, seemed to pull much more than the red with it.  

The rain stopped eventually.

It was morning before the others arrived.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! Ha ha... That was interesting to write. Of course, Jean is my baby, so you can imagine how much writing this pained me. (I mean, c'mon, even Isayama hasn't killed Jean but here I am)
> 
> I'd highly recommend reading the poem that the quote at the beginning is from. It's called The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
> 
> Anyways, comments are very much appreciated! I love all the feedback I can get :)


End file.
